Cesc and van Gogh

"Right now I'm fine with Arsenal, but I cannot deny that to return and play for Barca would be a dream come true for me. I chose to stay at the club last summer and right now I'm totally focused on the reason for that decision which was to try and win trophies. We'll see how things have gone by the end of the season."

- Cesc Fabregas, probably as disillusioned as the rest of us

I went to the van Gogh museum today. 

There are approximately 170 van Gogh paintings at the museum, arranged in chronological order. It's neat how you can walk across the floor and see how Vincent developed as an artist and how his style of painting changed as he grew older and sadder. 

There's this one spot in the gallery where you're looking at Wheatfield With Crows, with its gloriously golden wheatfield below a dark, foreboding sky. Three pathways meander through the field, going nowhere. It was painted shortly before his death, and it really does reflect a troubled mind. It's claustrophobic and disturbing, and there's this sense that there's no way out. 

And yet, if you turn around, in the opposing corner of the gallery, you can see his Paris paintings, where everything is brightness and lightness. You can feel the optimism from those paintings, the sense that the world was just beginning to open up for him and that everything was going to be peachy. 

I found that incredibly poignant. You're only young once, and there's only one time in your life when the world opens up and reveals itself to you in all its glory. If you miss it, you can go looking for it, but it'll be meaningless, a chasing after of the wind. It'll always be just over your shoulder, on the other side of the gallery. 

There is a rather tenuous Arsenal link to this...

It ties in with Cesc because I seriously think he should consider leaving at the end of the season. This is on proviso that we don't win anything, and we don't look like we're taking steps to rectify the situation. Cesc is too good to play for a side that can't (or won't) challenge for major trophies. He's got so much talent, but this time will only come once in his life. He should be making the most of it. 

Cesc should be at a club that wins things. 

Impossible situations

Kinnear: Which one is Simon Bird [Mirror journalist]?
Bird: Me.
JK: You’re a ****.
Bird: Thank you.

- the start of the Joe Kinnear show

I've just read most of the Joe Kinnear press conference. It happened sometime when I was in Norway, so I haven't been up with the football news as much as I normally am. Actually, considering I'm on holiday, it's shockingly depressing how much I am in touch with football news. Maybe I should throw the laptop in a train station locker and forget about it for the next five months...

Anyway, Kinnear's in a bad, bad situation. He's unloved by the players, the fans, the press. He's appointed by a man who's unloved by the above and will be sacked in a few months. And he works for a guy who's unloved by the above, is looking to sell the club and who probably can't give a toss about how the manager, the club or the fans are feeling.

Despite what he's said in the past, I'm sure Kinnear's bloody glad it's just an interim position.

I've a certain sympathy with Kinnear. I've shot my mouth off before. In fact, I used to do it at work once every six months or so, usually around August, usually on a Wednesday. It feels really, really good when you're doing it. You feel bulletproof, invincible and - and this is the part that really feels great - righteous. You feel like you're completely right, and they're completely wrong, and it's your mission on earth to tell them exactly how wrong they are.

It's only the next day that you start to realise what an arse you've been. I think we've all been in that situation. And really, there's nothing that needs to be said. He's in an impossible situation and he cracked. He's got my sympathy.

I visited the Anne Frank House today.

They've got excerpts from her diary plastered on the walls of the annex. There's this one that really got to me, about how the chestnut tree in the courtyard was more beautiful than it was the year before. The idea that she would look at the tree through a slip in the curtain, see the sun shine through the leaves and see the wind make them sway, and yet never being able to step out and touch it... it effected me more than all the holocaust stories I've ever read.

1-1 to the Arsenal

"Sunderland, I believe, did adopt a defensive attitude. Does it disappoint me? It’s not for me to judge, we just have to find the solutions to the problems they cause."

- Arsene Wenger, after the Sunderland game

We're not ready for a title challenge. 

If we were, we would be winning games against teams like Sunderland. We need to win games against teams like Sunderland. This was the kind of game that champions encounter all the time, and it's the kind of games a champion wins. 

Sunderland set up a 4-5-1 because they were afraid of Arsenal's creativity. They packed the midfield, put nine men behind the ball, and tried to use the pace of Djibril Cisse to pinch a goal. 

Arsenal set up a 4-5-1 because we were afraid that Denilson couldn't cope with a physical Sunderland team. This led to a rather unfortunate series of events:

1. Song played instead of Nasri
2. van Persie dropped deep to get the ball 
3. Adebayor was isolated and didn't have anyone to feed off
4. Walcott drifted too far inside to support Adebayor 
5. Walcott didn't use his pace on the flanks 
6. We didn't have enough width to stretch Sunderland
7. We didn't have enough space to make those cute passes
8. We didn't create enough chances
9. We didn't win 

Yes, we (maybe) had a goal disallowed. And yes, Sunderland's goal was against the run of play (and very well taken by Leadbitter, by the way). And yes, Fabregas' goal in the 91st minute showed great mental fortitude. 

But that's missing the point. 

The point is that we altered the way we played to accommodate a weakness. Last season, we would've played a 4-4-2 because Flamini was mature enough to boss the midfield without that extra body. van Persie would've been higher up the field. Adebayor would've had more of the ball, and troubled the defenders more. And we would've won.

This is a seriously depressing result. It's depressing because it could've been easily sorted out, if only Wenger had bought an experienced defensive midfielder. It didn't have be an super, super player - just someone tactically disciplined, physically strong and old enough to have seen it all before. He didn't even have to be first choice for the Arsenal - just someone who's available for these tough matches in the north of England. 

We can talk about the potential of our kids all we want - and believe me, I love talking about the potential of our kids - but the truth is plain, unlovely and painfully hard to ignore. It's a truth that stems from the problem that Wenger acknowledges but refuses to address, and it's turning my hair white (literally - I found another one yesterday). 

The truth is that we're not ready for a title challenge. 

My Boy, Matty Connolly

"So hopefully we can achieve that and I’ll be back at the Emirates sooner than I thought — playing for QPR next year. I learnt so much there and have nothing but praise for the club. I could have stayed and been patient but I’m at the age where I want to push on."

- Matthew Connolly, in a piece in The Sun

It's always a pleasure to hear about Matty Connolly. 

I don't follow Matty's progress as closely as I probably should. My nom de guerre IS Connolly's agent, after all, and you'd expect a certain affection on my part for the lad. But I only chose the name as a spur-of-the-moment thing, in order to defend Matty's move to QPR from a pack of vociferous gooners. However, the name kind of stuck, and now whenever I see his name in the papers, I can't help but feel a paternal pride in his accomplishments. 

It was sad to see him leave the Arsenal, but I understood. He had lot of people in front of him, with Djourou and Senderos earmarked for the centre-half positions in the long term. And he was at the age when he really needed playing time to build up his experience and confidence. So a move to QPR was both courageous and necessary. 

Still, it would've been nice if he'd stayed and tested his strength. He was the under-age Arsenal captain, an England U21, and a promising prospect to boot. He was English, which meant a lot more in the days before the emergence of Theo and Jacks. It would've been nice to see him prove himself in the first team, but it wasn't to be. 

From the article, he's made the right choice and done well for himself. He's got a starting position at QPR, and with a good run, they might even make the Premiership. He's got a few nice things to say about the Arse, which is always a sign of a nice boy. Good on him. I sincerely hope QPR get up, and next year, Matty will have his day in the sun at Emirates. 

Play well, Matty. 

Nasri's a playa

“We’d still be together if she hadn’t met Nasri in Cuba. I’m absolutely furious with him and would consider punching his lights out if we met."

- Phil Mc Caw, cuckolded by an ugly, ugly Frenchman

I'm killing time until my train to Trondheim. I figured that if I waited for the sleeper, I'd save a bit on the accommodation, I'll have a bit more time to wander around Oslo, and I'd be able to hang around a bit in the hotel and maybe get some rest. 

Yep, I'm livin' large these holidays. 

Another one who likes to live it up is Samir Nasri. This story comes from The Sun, so I'm not sure how true it is, but apparently, Nasri cheated on his girlfriend with an English girl named Aymee Davison.  Aymee, alas, was also attached at the time. Phil Mc Caw, the wronged, party, is a lumbering Yorkshire rugby player who is contemplating having a frank and earnest discussion with our Sammy. 

If I was Nasri, I'd be quite glad for every inch of rolling hill and gentle pasture that separates me from being turned into Yorkshire pudding.  If I was Wenger, I'd be glad as well. We need Nasri in the side. He adds a bit of creativity and inventiveness, and takes the burden off Cesc, somewhat. We've a thin squad, and we don't need Nasri injured for another two month. 

Actually, I'm quite disappointed with our Sammy. I really quite liked him, up to this point. But it's the sign of a cad to go after another guy's girl. Especially if you've a hot little number at home as well, by the name Tatiana Golovin. Honestly, what's Sammy thinking? Tatiana's much, much prettier that Aymee.

Can't imagine our Theo pulling a stunt like that - he's such a nice boy. 

The Scream

 In times when every one of us wonders what the bankers and politicians are doing with our money, there has to be an escape in life. A night at soccer's opera can only provide that outlet if the intention is to entertain us, and not merely to win, win, win.

- Rob Hughes, waxing lyrical about the Arsenal

I feel like shit. 

I've stuffy nose, a head full of straw and a rapidly diminishing wad of cash. I've got a train out of Oslo tomorrow night, and I'm not sure what I'll do once I'm in Trondheim. I wanted to go to Tromso, but the train's full, the buses don't run that far, and I can't be bothered. It's a pity, because seeing big shiny lights in the sky was the principle reason for visiting Norway. 

Seeing shiny things light up the night sky is something most people find entertaining. 60,000 Londoners experienced something akin to the Northern Lights the other night. And today, a host of reporters have been tripping over their fingers trying to emulate Arsenal's on-field eloquence. A host of gooners are probably doing the same in various blogs around the world. 

I'm not going to. Like Wenger, I'm physically sick. But unlike Wenger, it'll take a bit more than a 4-0 drubbing to soothe my feverish brow. 

It exasperates me that this win will only serve to paper-over the flaws in our side. Yeah, we played well. Yeah, we scored a lot. But we were shaky in defence, and we've resolved nothing. In six games time, we'll drop a winnable game, and we'll be back where we started from. 

It shits me off. 

It shits me off like the felafel I had last night. It shits me off like this cold that's keeping me in the hotel lobby. It shits me off because we're so close to ruling the Premiership, but we keep avoiding the problems that stop us from becoming great. I saw The Scream today in the National Gallery, and I'm starting to suspect Edvard Munch was an Arsenal supporter. 

Don't get me wrong - I love the Arsenal, and I love Arsene Wenger. I love them because they play a form of football that will never thrive in this world, and yet they continue to play it with utter conviction. They are naked to the world. Their flaws are as much exposed as their talent. They are so close to being an unbeatable side, and yet, they won't compromise their vision. 

I get it, and understand it, and most of the time, I can accept it. It's just... you never like seeing someone you care about suffer. And I care about me quite a bit. 

Porto tonight

I believe we have not to make too much of it. We lost the game, but we have enough strengths within the club and within the team to deal with that."

- Arsene Wenger, with regards to the Hull game

We're playing Porto tonight. 

A couple of days ago, Wenger was on the warpath. He'd finally had had enough of abject performances against teams we really should be beating. And firmly in his sights was the defensive partnership between Gallas and Toure, and our susceptibility from set-pieces. 

Today, Wenge's mellowed. It was bound to happen. Wenger's a bit too close to the project to see what the major flaws are. Yep, he's right in that our strengths can cover our weaknesses. But the simpler solution, surely, is to plonk an experienced head-kicker in the heart of defence; someone who can be relied upon NOT to lose concentration against weaker opponents. But it's not going to happen. 

Tonight, expect a committed performance from the Arsenal. Expect dominance, even. We'll do well against Porto, and we'll win comfortably. The press will laud us again, and the players will vow never to backslide again.

And this'll go on for another five, six games, until we play another small side who we really should beat. And we'll slip up, and blow our chance to win the league. And we'll be just as angsty and disappointed... and the cycle will go on. 

It's cold and rainy in Oslo. And it's playing with my state of mind. I'm beginning to wonder whether it was such a good idea to come up this far north. It's pretty and all (hills, fjords and trees are a nice combination), but I'm getting real tired of this. 

****

It's a bit later. 4-0 to the Arsenal, and I'm not surprised. It's so strange to see them back on TV, however. I remember the feeling of being in that stand and singing those songs, and I miss it. Watching it on Tv, you've got a funny feeling that you're being jibbed of something important. It's a feeling that is compounded when you're drinking a 62kr ($12AUS) pint of Guinness while doing so. 

Norway is very expensive.